Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and will myself to go back to reality. This is just so cruel, even by my strange dreams’ standards.
“Ava…open those eyes. Look at me.”
I peek at him and immediately regret it. His somber gray eyes are as angry as a hurricane and as tempting as the damn devil.
“You feeling all right?”
His words don’t match his expression. He sounds concerned, but he looks bored. Cold. Indifferent.
Like the Eli I’m used to and the Tin Man we all know and hate.
This imposter needs to piss off, or at least put more effort into sounding sardonic and unbearably sarcastic like the actual Eli. Two out of five on Trustpilot. Could use more imitation skills.
I pull the mask from my face with an ease I didn’t expect. Honestly, after that accident, with a truck, no less, I expected to die or at least end up with lifelong paralysis. In the best-case scenario, I’d get away with a few broken bones. I stare down at myself, at my hands, and move my toes again.
Nothing.
There’s no way in hell I would’ve come out of that one unscathed.
Hold on. Was the accident a dream?
Though, if I were speculating, I’d bet money the current situation is the actual dream, not the other one.
Maybe I’m dead and this is a benevolent angel’s effort to give me a dreamlike experience of what I couldn’t have when alive.
Brilliant. Dead at twenty-one. What a loss of potential.
But maybe it’s a good outcome, considering all the fuckery that’s been happening in my life lately. Or the burden I’ve posed on the people closest to me.
I start to sit up, then pause. Eli helps me and sets a pillow behind me so I’m comfy.
Maybe I’m disfigured and he’s sympathizing? Though he doesn’t do that.
If sympathy were to meet Eli in an alley, it’d stab itself in the eye and he’d just step on it and be on his merry way.
I touch my face and feel the normal texture. No bandage. Hmm. I’m at a loss, to be honest.
“What are you doing here, Eli?” My voice sounds low, husky, a bit odd, as if I’ve been screaming for days.
Eli rises to his full height, looking majestic in a black shirt and gray trousers. His godlike presence and the tinge of intimidation that rushes through me whenever I’m around him pale in comparison to a different phenomenon.
His eyes.
They grow in size for the first time in my life. They’re a lighter shade of gray, so close to a cloudy summer’s day.
“Say that again.” He speaks slowly.
“What are you doing here, Eli?” Annoyance breaks through my voice and I have to swallow past the discomfort.
Before he can answer, I catch the shadow of Papa and Mama walking through the door. They’re both holding coffee cups and speaking in a hushed tone.
I think I hear ‘again’ and ‘it’s not doable anymore.’ My posture straightens to eavesdrop, but they both come to a halt when they lift their heads and see me.
A rush of comfort mixed with a tinge of unease floods me. Yikes. I avoided them for as long as I could after the competition, but a strange car without headlights brought us to this less-than-glamorous scene.
“Hi, Mama, Papa…” I say with a guilty voice and trail off when they look at me positively shocked, as if I’m a ghost.
Something’s off.
They both seem worn out, like they’ve aged five years since the last time I saw them. My father, Cole Nash, is the most collected man and the most loving father, and yet, right now, he looks to be on the edge of something. His beautiful green eyes, which have always reminded me of spring and sparkling exotic water, look half dead.
He’s lost weight, too.
Mama is worse. Her usually shiny blonde hair that she passed down to me is now dull and uncharacteristically gathered in a ponytail. Her skin is pasty white and her face looks haggard.
Silver Queens Nash is a celebrity in this world. And it’s not because Grandpapa is an ex-prime minister, my nan is an ex-politician, or my father is a business tycoon. It’s because she chairs different charities and works extremely hard to make our world a better place.
She’s how I learned empathy, sympathy, and to be abundantly aware of my privilege and how to use it to help others.
My parents are the reason behind my high standards for love, family, and communication.
They taught me and Ari our worth way before we were old enough to understand the term.
So it kills me to feel like I’m the reason behind their soulless eyes.
“Ava, honey…” Mum wraps her arms around me and squeezes me in a hug that nearly crushes me.
“She…” I can see Papa’s calculative gaze straying to Eli. A look of mutual understanding passes between them before my father nods, and a fractured sigh falls from his lips.